


Deep

by menin_aeide



Series: The Seventh Knight [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominant Kylo Ren, Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, Submissive Armitage Hux, Subspace, Why won't these two just talk to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menin_aeide/pseuds/menin_aeide
Summary: Emperor Ren and Grand Marshal Hux are lovers. But Hux is running himself ragged with the Emperor's most ambitious project, and Ren is getting worried.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: The Seventh Knight [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787461
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Deep

One of the ironies of having made Hux his Grand Marshal, reflects Kylo Ren, as he storms down the ship’s corridors, leaving a trail of terrified subordinates – who still retain a very vivid memory of his lightsabre-wielding days – in his wake, is that he, the Emperor of the known galaxy, practically has to make appointment these days to get to see his lover. And he needs to make it at least one week in advance – Hux is that busy.

Of course Ren had known that redesigning central Coruscant to fit the new, vast seat of his government – and the new Imperial palace – would be a massive task, in many ways dwarfing the Starkiller project: after all, the goal was no less than to build the new Imperial capital upon the ashes of the old seat of the Republic. It would have probably been easier to just set up a new capital in a more convenient, less historied planet; but Emperor Ren wanted to make the completeness of his victory clear. He is no mere temporary upstart with ridiculous, utopian fantasies about starting from scratch.

No: Ren is the last descendant of a long, illustrious lineage (and, Sith hells, after what he had to put up with his family, he is going to milk his genealogy that for all it is worth), who finally understood that killing the past is impossible – and attempting it, incredibly unproductive.

Making peace with the past, rather – by using whatever suits him and remorselessly tearing down whatever does not – is the way forward. Not for him a new, fledgling capital that no one will ever really see as such, with Coruscant continuing to function as the de facto galactic hub. Rather, Emperor Ren will shamelessly appropriate the past, remould it to fit his purposes, and leave his own mark on it to such an extent that everyone will forget that things were ever different.

The problem with such a massive undertaking is that it requires a genius architect, and there is only one person capable of it. And, secretly, part of Ren’s motivation for the project has been to offer it as a gift to his lover. Ren will go down in history as the emperor who forever changed the face of Coruscant: but Hux will be remembered as the mind behind it.

Which, either way, means that he hardly sees Hux now. And, when he does see him, his Grand Marshal is inevitably exhausted and cranky. Which is what Ren fully expects when he walks into his quarters to – finally! – spend the night with Hux, even if it’s only to sleep side by side with him (Hux has stubbornly, and, to Ren’s mind, oddly refused to leave his own rooms and move in with Ren. It’s not as if Ren’s quarters weren’t massive, and Hux would have plenty of space not only for his own bedroom if he prefers to sleep alone, but even to set up his own workshop).

But even though he expected it, Ren is shocked by how utterly… _drained_ Hux looks.

The Grand Marshal is sitting on Ren’s sofa, tapping in irritation at his datapad, the glare of the screen making his already pale face look almost green in the semidarkness of the room. He’s slumped forward, his clothes rumpled as if he had slept in them, frowning as if fighting to concentrate, and the purple circles under his eyes look alarmingly dark.

He looks up as Ren walks in, and finishes typing something in before setting the datapad aside. “Ren.”

“You haven’t slept,” Ren finds himself saying without realising. It’s not a fruitful discussion – they have already spoken about this, many times, and it never has any effect other than irritating Hux.

Which, right on track, it does. “Not this again,” he snaps, standing up from the sofa.

“Have you had dinner?” asks Ren, and, seeing the look in Hux’s eyes, adds: “I haven’t. Thought we could eat together tonight.”

Hux hesitates. “All right. But I need to leave, afterwards. I’m having a meeting with one of the contractors.”

“At this time of night?”

Hux’s irritation visibly grows. “Technically, it’s still the evening, not night. And they’re stopping over on their way to somewhere else. It’s my only window to negotiate – and, before you question it, I really need to negotiate this myself. It’s important.”

“Okay,” says Ren, willing himself to be happy with what he can get, here. “But could you come back later, when the meeting is over?”

It’s so clear that he’s being careful to ask, not to push Hux, that the Grand Marshal’s eyes soften somewhat. “I can do that. When it’s over.”

***

When Ren wakes up in the morning, he’s alone, and it’s obvious that Hux didn’t sleep there. Which doesn’t surprise him – and the sadness at realising that he had expected to be disappointed washes over him like something cold and slimy.

He sits up on the edge of the bed and sighs. Enough.

***  
  


He finds Hux on the bridge, of course. Never mind that they are on a permanent orbit around Coruscant now, so that Hux can shuttle down planetside whenever needed to supervise the works. Never mind that Captain Mitaka is Colonel Mitaka now, and perfectly capable of running the _Finalizer_ himself.

“Grand Marshal. I need to talk to you. Urgently.”

Hux turns to look at him, impassive. The only word that leaps to Ren’s mind as he sees him is _haggard._ “My shift is over in a few hours, and I have a ten-minute window before the next meeting –"

”But Ren cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. “ _Now,_ Armitage.”

Hux reddens at the use of his first name in front of his crew, who are all glancing at them out of the corner of their eyes. Like in the good old days. He opens his mouth to reply, and Ren, despite how much he hates to do it to Hux, decides to pull rank for once.

“This is your _Emperor’s_ command, Grand Marshal.”

Hux’s eyes widen, and then he nods curtly. “Of course, Sire.”

They walk into an empty meeting room, and as soon as the door closes behind them, Hux turns around and hisses: “What the fuck do you think you are doing, _Sire_?”

Ren leans against the edge of the long meeting table. Hux looks almost about to collapse, but he is clenching his fists furiously, willing himself to hold himself together.

“This can’t go on, Armitage,” Ren says softly. “You’re running yourself into the ground. Enough.”

“ _Enough?_ ” snarls Hux. “What the fuck do you expect me to do? Just lounge around and feed you grapes all day? Be the Emperor’s kept man? Your fucktoy? Your _pet_?”

Ren blinks at the utter _venom_ with which Hux spits out his words. “Is that how you think I see you, Armitage? Really?” He stares at him for a second, realising. “No. But that’s how you fear everyone else will see you.”

Hux crosses his arms self-protectively. “I don’t want my crew to think – to think that I…” He looks up. “I’m _good_ at what I do, Ren. I don’t want people to think that you made me Grand Marshal just because you fuck me.”

 _Ah._ Of course. Ren had thought that it was the project for the new capital that had triggered all this – but he had also named Hux Grand Marshal at the same time. And both things – the project, and his new position – are intrinsically linked now, in his mind.

“I need to prove that I can do it better than anyone. That I’m the right person. I need to achieve – “ Hux voice drifts off. “There is no point to me otherwise,” he murmurs.

Ren senses, very clearly, that there is something else there that intensely distresses Hux. He doesn’t want to pry in his mind, though – Hux’s hackles are already up, and he would take it as another blow to his pride. “Killing yourself is no way to prove anything, Armitage. You need to stop.”

At this, Hux raises his head, the furious glint back in his eyes. “I _need_ to stop? Because _you_ have decided so, _Sire_? Because _you_ are the _Emperor_ and your wishes are my command? Because whenever you snap your fingers I should just drop everything and come crawling to your side to lick your hand, or your _whatever_?”

Ren considers the furious man in front of him, the way his fists keep clenching and unclenching, how he is practically _trembling_ with rage. Only, it’s misdirected rage – like a bird bashing itself repeatedly against a cage, over and over, not knowing what to do with all its energy.

The horrible thought crosses Ren’s mind that perhaps, after all, Hux is throwing himself against the bars of what he sees the cage Ren has placed him in, that he truly resents being Ren’s second-in-command – the anger Hux is projecting is so strong.

But then he brushes against Hux's mind, and he sees.

Hux is not raging against a cage. If anything, he’s raging because he _needs_ a cage. He needs limits. Definition. Restriction. At least now and then.

He should have known. Director Krennic, the Brethren. Even Tritt Opan. It’s what Hux needs to function, on a regular basis. Hux may have been lost in a whirlwind of activity, but Ren has also been so distracted by matters of State that he failed to realise that his lover was precisely doing so because he has other pressure valve to release his tension than Ren, now. And he failed to provide it.

Time to rectify his failing.

He reaches out with his hand as Hux rants, and grips his wrist. Hard. The red-haired man gasps in surprise and indignation and – relief? He looks up, eyes huge, and suddenly looks so much younger. And – lost.

Ren leans forward and hisses: “I will _not_ tolerate this insubordination, Grand Marshal. But, unlike what you seem to think, I’m the Emperor of the known galaxy and have better things to do right now than deal with you. I’ll see you in my quarters at eight _sharp_. Meanwhile, you’re removed from your post. You have failed to take care of yourself as a proper commander should, in sheer dereliction of your duties. _Shameful_.” Hux gasps and flushes at this, but says nothing, transfixed by Ren’s burning gaze. “For your own sake, take care that you get some food into you and rest before meeting me tonight. _That’s an order_.”

And with this, Ren releases Hux’s wrist and stalks out of the room, without looking back.

***

He is waiting and ready, when Hux buzzes to be let in (he has the code to Ren’s quarters, but he has always refused to use it, out of a misplaced sense of politeness, Ren assumes.) As soon as the door slides open, he tells the Grand Marshal to stop in the threshold.

Hux is bewildered, and not a little angry. “What the hell, Ren…?”

Ren cuts him off, his voice stern. He has dimmed the lights in his quarters, and is sitting on a large leather armchair at the other side of the room, from which he addresses Hux.

“The second you cross that threshold, everything that happens in this room will be on my terms. I’m giving you fair warning. But it’s your choice. You can come in or leave. I won’t force you.”

Hux’s eyes grow huge – with surprise, with arousal? – but he says nothing.

“Do you understand?”

A nod. A moment’s hesitation. And then Hux steps in, the door swishing closed behind him liked a blade.

He must have followed Ren’s order to a certain extent, because, even though he is obviously still tired, it’s not his previous bone-deep exhaustion. He looks – apprehensive. Relieved.

“Come here.” Hux moves forward until he is standing directly in front of the sitting Ren. “You know you need this, don’t you?” he says softly.

Hux bites his lip, looks down. Then looks at Ren’s face. And wordlessly nods. To Ren’s secret, huge relief.

“Good. Go into my bedroom. Take your clothes off and lie on the bed, face up. Close your eyes. I’ll be there shortly.”

Hux complies, and Ren waits for a few minutes before getting up to find the bag he has prepared. Then goes to the kitchen area, pours himself a glass of water and waits – or rather, make Hux wait – some more. Giving silent thanks to the shade of Director Krennic for providing a sort of template for what he is about to do now. He leaves the empty glass in the sink, opens the freezer, and takes out a tray of ice cubes.

When he walks into the bedroom he finds Hux just as he expected: eyes closed, completely naked, his long, pale body seeming even paler against the dark coverlet. Ren does not need to use his mind-reading powers to feel the extreme tension caught in his body, like a coil spring wound too tight. As Ren approaches the bedside, he can see tiny twitches in Hux’s thigh, his cheek, his fingers as he becomes aware of Ren’s presence.

He sides on the side of the bed, next to Hux, and gently runs a finger down his naked flank, watching how his breath catches, the trail of goose bumps following his caress. He wants to cover Hux in kisses, hold him and worship his body until his lover is overwhelmed with pleasure.

But that, he knows, is not what Hux needs now.

He works quickly: taking the gear out of the bag, securing the blindfold around Hux’s eyes (and making sure with the Force that he cannot see at all), wrapping the leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles and fastening them to the discreet attachments on the bedframe. Hux remains tense as Ren moves across his body; but he sighs when he is bound by the cuffs, as if he were being finally allowed to do something he had long awaited.

Which, Ren thinks, is exactly the case. Hux needs to be allowed to submit. He needs the space, the restrictions that free him to place himself in another’s hands. The reassurance that he can trust Ren to give him what he needs and not hurt him.

“You have been remiss in your duties, Grand Marshal,” he murmurs, trailing a finger again down Hux’s side. “You haven’t been taking good care of my property. Because you know _this” –_ and he lays his flat hand on Hux’s abdomen – “and _this_ ” – he places the tip of his index between Hux’s eyebrows – “are _mine._ Don’t you?”

Hux swallows, but says nothing. His body is so taut against the restraints that Ren fears he is going to pull a muscle any minute.

“ _Don’t you?_ ” And slaps Hux hard in the face. Who gasps, more out of surprise than pain.

He moans out: “…yes.”

“Yes what?” Another slap.

“ _Yes, sir_.”

Ren smiles to himself. Hux is perfectly comfortable calling him _Sire –_ the standard treatment for emperors – in public; but he always resists, at first, calling Ren _sir,_ the term they have settled on to use in private. It would seem to be far more innocuous than the imperial _Sire;_ but Ren knows that Hux’s pride finds it much harder because, when Hux says it, he means it. Which is exactly why Ren always demands that he use it in these circumstances.

“You need to remember to whom you belong, Grand Marshal. And tonight I’ll make sure that you won’t be forgetting it any time soon.”

Hux’s cock, he notices with satisfaction, is already fully erect and blood-engorged. Not that it’s going to be of much use to Hux, at least for a while.

He picks up the ice tray, takes a couple of cubes out, and places them against Hux’s penis and testicles. Hux shouts in shock.

“Shhh.” Ren applies the cubes lightly, taking care not to risk ice burn on the delicate skin, but Hux is trembling at the unexpected, unwelcome sensation. His erection quickly flails, as Ren expected – and, as it does, he is quick to entrap Hux’s now-flaccid penis in a cock cage. “Hmm. Perhaps I should keep you like this all day. Under control. It would work wonders to improve your attitude.”

Hux _groans_ outright at this. Ren knows that it’s diabolical position to be in: his utter physical vulnerability, completely at Ren’s mercy, and Ren’s words, are bringing him to an extreme pitch of arousal – and its bodily manifestation, as his penis tries to rise again, is painfully thwarted by the cage. Which in turn sends intensifies his arousal. And on and on, in the best kind – in Ren’s view – of vicious circle.

He brings his hands down, caressing Hux’s perineum and testicles, the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Then takes another ice cube, spreads Hux’s legs wider, and applies it to the rim of his anus.

“ _Fuck fuck fuck,_ Ren – _sir!_ ” Hux cries out in increasing desperation.

Ren just smiles, idly circling the reddening puckered skin. Finally, he takes a vial out of his pocket, and lubricates his right-hand fingers. Then starts stretching the hole – and Hux’s relief at the sudden warmth is audible.

He slides one finger in, then two, while stroking Hux’s hip with the other hand, coaxing his tight anal passage to relax, and he can feel as the tension somewhat gives way. Then finds the right spot, grazing his finger tip against the prostate – Hux’s entire body becomes a taut, drawn bow as he cries out.

He removes the fingers. Hux’s cock is leaking abundant precum through the cage, and he is making a sound that can only be described as sobs.

“ _Please,”_ he begs. “ _Please, sir, I beg you, I need_ –“

“You don’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Ren smirks. He takes a silvery plug from the bag, and smoothly slides it into Hux’s anus, making sure that it touches his prostate and its side flanges will keep it seated inside. Then brings a remote control out of his pocket, and starts the plug.

He chooses one of the highest settings to begin with, and the vibrations send shocks through Hux’s body (and, presumably, cock). Hux is in tears now, crying in desperation, helpless to do anything against the relentless overstimulation.

Ren leans forward, and whispers in his ear: “Remember, Armitage. You are _mine._ ”

Then slides a gag into Hux’s mouth, muffling his cries, and moves to stand back. Feeling that Ren is moving away, Hux turns blindly, projecting so hard that Ren can read his thoughts without even trying.

_No no no please please fuck sir sir please don’t leave me like this no please I’ll be good I promise oh fuck fuck please sir don’t go please fuck_

He finally takes pity on Hux, and brings the setting down to a gentle but constant vibration. Immediately, Hux relaxes a bit, and his thoughts lose their frantic quality – although they are still nothing but a flow of pleas for relief.

“I’ll be back in a while, boy,” he tells Hux in as nonchalant a tone as he can muster given his own rock-hard erection.

And leaves the room, waving the door behind him closed on Hux’s stifled wail of despair.

***

He sits on the sofa outside and waits, pretending to himself that he’s reading. All the while, he is keeping close tabs on Hux’s mental state – he doesn’t want his anguish to become unbearable. But he does want to bring him to the breaking point.

Which Hux reaches, eventually. Ren can feel the moment when his overwhelmed mind just gives up and blanks out. Not that he faints at all – rather, all resistance collapses, and his mind passively accepts what is being meted out to him. Essentially, he is entering subspace.

Ren knows, from Hux’s memories of Krennic and the Brethren, that he is capable of reaching extremely deep levels of submission, to the extent that he loses awareness of his own self. He has never reached any similar level with Ren, and he is not that far gone yet, right now. But Ren fully intends to plunge him there tonight.

Hux does not feel him as Ren, now naked, enters the bedroom again. It isn’t until Ren sits by his side, gently brushing his fingers across his torso, that Hux’s breath catches and he raises his face towards the other man, a blind sunflower turning towards a dark sun. Ren turns off the vibrator and Hux’s entire body seems to collapse with a heaving shudder.

The blindfold, when Ren removes it, is sodden with the tears that streak Hux’s face. Ren has to tell him to look at him, and when he opens them, his green eyes are glassy, unfocused. Ren cups his cheek.

“Good boy. You’ve been such a good boy. So patient for me.”

Hux mewls against his touch. He’s still as overstimulated as before – Ren can feel it – but there is no urge to seek release. Ren’s presence, his touch, is grounding him, the only steady point of reference he has in his mind now, and he is turning towards it. Opening himself to Ren.

Ren is extremely careful now – he knows that Hux is in a very vulnerable state, and any unadvised action or word could seriously damage him. Quite literally, he is exposed, bare of defences. First of all, Ren removes the cock cage, and Hux’s penis immediately springs upright, coating his fingers in abundant goo. Hux does not react, but merely continues to gaze at Ren, as if lost. Seeking mooring.

Ren removes the gag, and Hux moans as his lover’s hands trail down to rove all over his body. Then Ren swings over to sit astride his hips, and buries his face in Hux’s neck. In other circumstances, a different kind of lovemaking, he would bite, mark Hux as his – but it’s not pain that makes Hux go deeper.

It’s control. Or, more accurately, safety in control. Which Hux seems to conflate. It’s only when he is overwhelmed by someone who also makes him feel grounded, secure as he is completely caught within that person’s power, that he is able to fully surrender.

He brushes his hand against Hux’s cock, gauging his response, and decides to let it be – he’s far too close to orgasm. So instead he kisses him on the mouth, deeply, so intensely that Hux’s sensations and what remains of his thought seem to overflow into Ren’s mind.

And he is shocked.

Hux believes that he, Ren, is going to leave him. And soon.

He draws back, stunned, and Hux involuntarily cries out – yearning all the more because he thinks that he will soon have no more of this, ever. So Ren rushes back to reassure him, comforting him, planting kisses all over his face, his throat, the hollow of his neck.

“I’m here. I’m here,” he murmurs. “I’ll always be here, Armitage. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hux’s face becomes distorted with grief at this. And, for the first time since Ren left him, he finds his way back into words. “Nnno, nnno… please, you… You can’t… I… _Oh god_.”

“What is it, Armitage?” Ren urges him as he kisses and caresses him. “What’s wrong? Tell me. You know you can tell me. Anything.”

“You… Don’t. Please don’t. _It hurts._ ”

At first Ren thinks that Hux is referring to his cock, which must still be sensitive from all the denial – but then he realises that he means Ren’s asking him to talk while being so affectionate to him. He’s torn.

Ren swallows. He hates having to do this, but he knows that Hux will clam up when he is a less vulnerable state. He brings Hux closer to him, seizes his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye, and commands him, gentle but firm: “Armitage. Tell me.”

Hux’s eyes are enormous, brimmed with tears, as his gaze is held by Ren’s. Like a lost, frightened child. “You – will marry. And leave me.”

“ _What???_ ” Ren is taken completely by surprise. What on earth is Hux talking about?

“It – makes sense. You are the Emperor. You’ll need alliances. A political marriage. I understand. It makes sense.” He repeats that, as if to persuade himself.

Ren blinks, absolutely baffled. “You think I’m going to get married soon and leave you?” he repeats, just to confirm the sheer insanity of it.

“The palace. That’s what – “

_That’s what it’s for._

Hux thinks that Ren is building a palace to house his future family – which, he assumes, will not include him.

“Armitage,” says Ren, urgently. “ _I’m not marrying anyone_. Anyone other than you, that is. Ever. I want to be with you, and only with you. Is that clear?”

“But,” mumbles Hux through his tears, “but… it’s… the right thing to do. To have descendants. An heir. I’m not a woman. I can’t give you children.”

Ren almost laughs out loud. “Armitage, I don’t want children. I don’t want an heir.”

Hux blinks. “But… the Empire. Your dynasty.”

They will have to discuss this later, extensively. But this is not the time. For now, what Hux needs is the most basic emotional reassurance. “I don’t want a dynasty, Armitage. I want to spend my life with you. We can talk about the Empire later, all right? But I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He kisses him again, holds him tighter, and Hux seems to physically _melt_ against him. He is still in his restraints, and that, and Ren’s weight pinning him down, seem to intensely comfort him now. Ren smooths his sweat-drenched hair back. “You are so good, I could never even think of letting you go, Armitage.”

Hux mewls at the praise, nuzzling against Ren’s hand as he falls again into inarticulateness. The hard, sharp shard of anxiety removed, his mental signature is starting to glow warm and soft now – something that Ren fully intends to encourage and intensify.

He moves down Hux’s body, taking care to keep as much skin in contact with his as possible at all times. Then reaches for the vial of lubricant, and coats his cock in it.

“I’m going to take you now, Armitage.”

Hux’s mental response is just a blast of eagerness and desire. There are no barriers in his mind anymore – an openness so absolute that it takes Ren’s breath away.

“Good boy. _My_ good boy.” And, as Hux trembles at the possessive, he slides in in one thrust, and enters him.

Hux cries out, and Ren realises that the other voice mingled with his, shouting out in overwhelming triumph and pleasure, is his own, coming out completely beyond his volition. He is babbling, too, a string of praise and possessiveness and ownership and desire and love, and Hux is flooded in it, gone beyond any control, tethered to reality only by Ren’s cock and voice.

Ren tries to hold it for a little longer, but he has little chance against the floodgates pouring out in both of them. As he feels the tremors in his lower belly, he has only the time gasp out the command: “ _Come!_ ”

Then, almost as a reflex, he reaches out through the Force, the word blasting like a shock wave into Hux’s mind.

_Mine._

And they both fall into the fathomless, burning dark.

***

They are standing, later, after the aftercare and the showering, on either side of the kitchen counter. Still shaken, both of them.

Ren slides a glass of water towards Hux. Who smiles slightly. “I think something stronger would be better, Ren.”

Ren – who is acting uncharacteristically uncertain – blinks, then nods. “Of course. Corellian brandy?”

“That would do nicely.”

Strengthened by the stiffer drink, Ren forces himself to ask: “We should have talked about this earlier, I imagine. But better later than never. I’m not interested in having an heir, or children.” He laughs dryly into his glass. “God knows that with my family history, the last thing I would want would be to have a child who would be born into a preordained life.” He looks up at Hux. “I – sort of had assumed that you felt likewise.”

Hux nods. “Yes. I never felt the urge to reproduce. It’s not as if my own history gave me a burning desire to be a father, myself.” He tilts his head. “But if you don’t intend to have an heir, the Empire –“

Ren sighs. “That’s another thing we should have discussed. It’s part of what I intend to do. I don’t think an Empire led by a single individual, however competent or well-meaning they may be, is a good idea. Power corrupts, inevitably. I have no intention of being Emperor for the rest of my life.”

Hux’s eyes grow very wide. “Then what…?”

“The old Republic was dysfunctional in many ways, which I think the Empire and the First Order corrected. But it got some things right. I think a degree of decentralisation – and, yes, democracy – are necessary if we want to have a stable galaxy-wide political structure that is sustainable.” He glances up at Hux, and only half-jokes: “And now that I’ve told you about my secret political objectives, I hope you won’t stage a coup.”

Hux is silent for a moment. Then answers: “I had thought along the same lines for some time. But didn’t tell you because – well, you’re the Emperor. And the situation was fairly uncertain still. But, essentially, I agree with you. Personal rule is a disaster. Inevitably.”

Ren smiles hugely, not bothering to hide his relief. He had thought that Hux would be scandalised by this, that he would see it as a betrayal of everything he and the First Order had stood for _. What else have we failed to notice in each other?_

And then he remembers what he realised, while he was in the shower. He takes a long swig, steeling himself. “Another thing.”

“Yes?”

“You thought I was building a palace for my future family. My supposed future wife and children. Did you really think I would be so cruel to ask _you,_ of all people, to design it?”

Hux bites his lip, looks down. Then up again at Ren. “I didn’t really think of it as cruel, to be honest. I – thought you were doing the right thing. I _am_ , after all, the best person for the project.” He smiles, somewhat forcedly, but it’s true: he’s the best person for the job, and he’s proud of it. His voice drops to almost a whisper. “I didn’t think you were being deliberately cruel to me, Ren. I know you aren’t that kind of person. In the same way that I knew that, if you married someone else, you wouldn’t have any other lovers, or affairs. I understood.”

Ren suddenly finds himself choked with emotion. “It – must have hurt you so much. Thinking that I –“ He swallows. “And yet you said nothing. You didn’t protest or complain.”

Hux looks up from his glass, straight into Ren’s eyes. “I swore to serve you, Ren. You are my liege, whatever happens. Always.”

His gaze is strong, and proud, and true. And Ren remembers what one of his Knights once told him about Hux: _I think he may be stronger than any of us._

Without even thinking, he rushes around the counter, grabs Hux, and kisses him deep, hard in the mouth. When they both come up for breath, he gasps: “My Knight. My love.”

And slowly, deliberately, just as Hux once did, when he swore allegiance to his lord, he drops to one knee. Placing himself at Hux's mercy.

And asks.


End file.
